Pierce Meets Passions
by JWizB
Summary: Gasp! Tamora Pierce has gotten sick of our beloved Tortall and sold the right to the makers of Passions! Wacky hijinks ensue! (For those who actually watch Passions, I am so sorry...) Rated for language and slight sexual content.


Disclaimers, Notes, and Apologies  
  
Disclaimer- I do not own Tamora Pierce.  
  
- I do not own Passions  
  
- I do not own the flashy memory messer- upper thing. The MIB do. I simply rented it for a while.  
  
- I do not own THE TOUPEE. It pretty much owns itself.  
  
Please Note- I don't think this will ever happen.  
  
- I'm not trying to offend anybody.  
  
- I don't hate Kally.  
  
- Flames make me laugh.  
  
- Seven is the prime number.  
  
- THE TOUPEE is the real power in this story.  
  
I Sincerely Apologize- For almost everybody being out of character.  
  
- For Alanna being so violently IN character.  
  
- For Kitten never speaking, or moving, or contributing to the plot...  
  
- For Kally being so bratty.  
  
- For Stefan never really speaking.  
  
- For Joren saying little more than "bah!"  
  
- For that Mithros-cursed song.  
  
- For appearing in this fic at all  
  
- For THE TOUPEE.  
  
And so, without further ado:  
  
  
  
PIERCE MEETS PASSIONS  
  
OR  
  
THE BADLY MASKED ESCAPADES OF THE TOUPEE IN THE FORM OF A TAMORA PIERCE FANFIC  
  
  
  
What happens when a writer gets sick of a certain world and sets it aside, only to find that the fans won't stop clamouring for more?  
  
According to Tamora Pierce, you sell the right to the makers of Passions.  
  
Which is just what our divine authoress has done. She tired of her once-beloved world of Tortall, and the new owners have been working strenuously (*cough* yeahright *cough*) to create a soap opera of all three Tortallan quartets combined, entitled.... 'Tortallan Passions'? You'd think they'd be a little more imagi- *Gets thwacked over the head with a rolled-up script by a harassed soap writer.* Okay, okay, I get the message. Nothing to be said but shameless plugs. *Turns to readers and holds up flashy memory messer-upper thing.* You will forget the last three sentences...  
  
The plotline of Tortallan Passions situates around the tangled love lives of the Tortallans... *Mutters* There's a big surprise... *Normal voice* Alanna is trapped in a loveless marriage with the abusive George, and feels too scared and helpless to end i- Waitaminute! Alanna? HELPLESS??? And what's this codswallop about George being abusi-  
  
*THWACK.*  
  
Ow... sorry. *Uses flashy memory messer-upper again.*  
  
Thayet thinks she loves Jonathan, but she really loves Stefan the groomsman. Jon himself is having an affair with Numair, who is torn between the powerful, rich, and handsome monarch and his love and student, Daine. Who is oblivious. *Snickers.* Kel is in love with Cleon, who is not Cleon, but Joren, who is harbouring both a love of the sole female squire and a fervent desire to see her come to a messy end involving lasers. What the hell??? That made no sense whatsoever! *Gets hit over the head again, uses memory messer-upper thing, blah blah, you know the drill.* At the end, the Tortallans will be forced volunteer to sing a luv'ly luv'ly song for y'all.  
  
Anyway! Episode One, entitled... er, well, it's supposed to be called 'The Fire of Corus', but that seems to have been crossed out. It's now called 'THE TOUPEE Is Coming'... Joren, is this your handwriting?  
  
[SCENE ONE: Room in Pirate's Swoop. We know this is Pirate's Swoop because there's a sign at one of the windows that says 'This is Pirate's Swoop! No... really!' Alanna is lying on the floor, her hair over her face (extensions added for showbiz purposes) making a valiant attempt to look distraught and tearful. George towers over her ( not exactly a great feat, huh?) trying equally hard to look menacing.]  
  
George: Damn it, woman, I will not have this stupidity in my household! *Raises arm. Alanna tries to look panicky, but instead looks like a duck with a bad bout of carsickness.*  
  
Alanna: George, please-  
  
*George hauls her up by the arm.*  
  
George: Not another word from you, you snivelling gr- oops! *Alanna slips from his grasp and falls to the floor.*  
  
George: Sorry, Alanna darlin'.  
  
*Alanna gets up and dusts herself off.*  
  
Alanna: It's alright, George. *Smiles, then realizes that the camera's still rolling. Immediately tries to look tearful again, this time most resembling a surprised fish.* Oh, husband, please do not say such things to me!  
  
*George gives Alanna a very fake-looking slap across the face, wincing as he does so. Alanna yelps like a puppy who got its tail stepped on.*  
  
George: Now listen to me, you- *Pauses and looks off toward the right.* Do I really have to say "bloody whore"?  
  
*Director takes him offset for a little "chat". George comes back looking resigned, knowing Alanna will give him an earful about this later.*  
  
George: Now listen to me, you bloody whore. I will not have any of that in this castle, understand me? *Alanna doesn't answer. George grabs her by the upper arms and gives her a very fake-looking shake.* Do you?!  
  
*Alanna tries to snivel, but sounds like she has a bad cold.*  
  
Alanna: Yes, husband.  
  
[SCENE TWO: Bedchamber in Royal Palace. Jonathan and Numair are in bed, Jon looking extremely uncomfortable, Numair resigned.]  
  
Jon *in an expressionless monotone*: Beloved?  
  
*Numair sighs and turns over, carefully pulling the blankets closer to himself.*  
  
Numair: Yes, Jon?  
  
Jon: Have you told Daine yet?  
  
Numair: You mean... about the two of us?  
  
Jon: Yes.  
  
*Numair bites his lower lip, trying to look pensive. He fails utterly, of course, but he's still acting better than Jon.*  
  
Numair: She means too much to me, Jon. I can't.  
  
*Jon sits up, his face completely blank, and puts his right arm over Numair.*  
  
Jon: And I mean nothing to you?  
  
Numair: Oh, Jon, of course you do! It's just-  
  
Jon *his voice still expressionless*: If you leave me alone to go to her, Numair, I'll kill you.  
  
*Numair gasps. It sounds very fake, but hey, it's a soap.*  
  
Numair: I'll never leave you, Jon. I swea-  
  
*Bedchamber door opens. Kalasin comes in, then freezes as she sees the two men in bed. Jon and Numair freeze, too- obviously this arrival was not in the script.*  
  
Kally: DADDY! What in Chavi Westwind's name are you-  
  
*Jon and Numair spring apart.*  
  
Jon: Kally, honey, it's not-  
  
Kally: My- my daddy's a sodomite- my- my da- *Closes eyes and runs away screaming "I DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING! I DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING! I DIDN'T SEE MY DADDY, OUR ILLUSTRIOUS MONARCH, IN BED ALL HOT AND SWEATY WITH NUMAIR SALMALÍN!"*  
  
*Jon and Numair look stunned. Numair, however, makes an attempt to return to the script.*  
  
Numair: I'll never leave you, Jon. I swear with the Goddess and the Black God as my witnesses.  
  
*Jon groans and buries his head in his hands.*  
  
Jon: Numair... shut up... just shut up...  
  
[SCENE THREE: Palace practice yards. Kel is tilting, grimacing as she goes through the over fancy choreographed routine the producers forced her to learn. To her left, leaning against the railings watching her, is Joren, with his hair dyed carrot red. He doesn't look at all like Cleon.]  
  
Joren *in a low and surprisingly sincere voice*: Keladry. Look at you, standing there with that stick thingy, so sure of yourself, so certain that you will be the greatest knight- but no! For I- have- THE TOUPEE! *Pulls a brown toupee from his pocket and throws it at Kel.*  
  
*Kel sighs and puts down her glaive.*  
  
Kel: Joren, please, just stick to the script, it'll be over soon.  
  
Joren *moodily*: Bah!  
  
*Brief pause, then scene starts again.*  
  
Joren *in a voice like Mel Gibson's in Hamlet*: Keladry. Look at you, standing there, dark as night, bright as day, my one love and hate. How can I have you both as my adversary and love?  
  
*Joren takes a step closer to Kel.*  
  
Joren: Love is the other side of hate.  
  
*Steps even closer.*  
  
Joren: It's the only way.  
  
*Kel turns and sets down her glaive. She has her Yamani face on.*  
  
Kel: Cleon.  
  
Joren: Kel.  
  
Kel: ...  
  
Joren: ...  
  
*They stand there for a minute looking bleakly at one another, then- after many promptings from the director- embrace stiffly.*  
  
Kel *thinking*: Jigoku no ekku, mataku no baka.  
  
Joren *thinking*: Curses! Am I actually letting this vile female touch me?! Waitaminute... am I enjoying it???  
  
*They break away hastily and stand almost three feet away. You can almost see Kel's hand itching to pick up her glaive again.*  
  
Joren *in the psychotic Mel Gibson voice*: I dreamed of you again, my pearl. I dreamed... you were dead.  
  
Kel *thinking*: I'll bet you did, you sick and twisted prettyboy... *Aloud* You have odd dreams.  
  
*Joren suddenly starts to laugh crazily. By Kel's (lack of) reaction, this is in the script. However, it sounds disturbingly realistic.*  
  
Joren: You were dead, surrounded by blood, and Sakuyo laughed, and- hold on, isn't Sakuyo a Yamani god? I- I wanna go home! *Runs off the set. The director, deciding to improvise, shoves Cleon on.*  
  
Kel: I though you were going home.  
  
*Cleon looks around, his brain not quite caught up with him yet.*  
  
Cleon: Eh? Pearl of my heart, where in Mithros' name am I?  
  
[SCENE FOUR: The Royal Stables. Thayet is doing Queenly Stable Stuff. Stefan is nearby, doing Groomly Stable Stuff. Neither seem to be very talkative.]  
  
Thayet: ...  
  
Stefan: Aye.  
  
*Both continue to work.*  
  
Thayet: ...  
  
Stefan: Aye.  
  
*They work some more.*  
  
Thayet: I really love Jon, you know.  
  
Stefan:...?!  
  
Thayet: Yeah. I really love him. A lot. More than I love hostlers with wild magic.  
  
Stefan: ... *Looks down, as though the dirty straw is suddenly extremely interesting.*  
  
Thayet: So, yeah.  
  
Stefan: Aye.  
  
*Suddenly Kally rushes in, looking traumatized.*  
  
Thayet *alarmed*: Oh, no, hon, you're not supposed to be in this scene.  
  
Kally: Mama, Mama- DADDY'S A SODOMITE!!! *Starts to wail.*  
  
Thayet *sternly*: Now, Kally, I'm not supposed to know that until episode 15. *Pats her daughter on the head.* Now go. I need to finish this scene.  
  
*Kally huffs in indignation and leaves. Thayet looks at Stefan.*  
  
Thayet: ...  
  
Stefan: Aye.  
  
[SCENE FIVE: Daine is with Kitten in the Palace Library. Neal sits nearby. Unlike the other characters, he seems to be enjoying himself.]  
  
Neal: So, Daine, has Numair told you yet?  
  
Daine: Huh? Numair's old?!  
  
Neal: No, I said-  
  
Daine: What's it to you if he's old, huh? *Looks angry and gets to her feet.* Are you his lover, huh, Nealan?  
  
Neal *muttering*: No, but Jon is.  
  
Daine: I don't care how big his baton is, you sick-minded page or squire or whatever you are in this stupid soap opera! Stop teasing my BABY! *Pokes him in the nose.*  
  
Neal: Your "baby" is a fairy!  
  
Daine: And how would you know if he's hairy or not, Nealan of Queenscove? Riddle me that!  
  
*Neal scoots his chair away, looking annoyed.*  
  
Neal: Mithros, Daine, you're supposed to be oblivious, not deaf!  
  
*Daine blinks, then looks around, flustered.*  
  
Daine: How long have we been filming?  
  
[SCENE SIX: The Tortallans are sitting in a small room, drinking coffee. All except for Alanna, who is out of her chair and yelling at George, getting redder and redder.]  
  
Alanna: Goddess help me, George, if you EVER hit me again I'll have you dragged into the Great Mother's Temple and have the warriors there punish you! I SWEAR!  
  
*George winces.*  
  
George: Alanna, darlin', it was in the script!  
  
*Alanna sits down huffily and slurps at a cup of coffee.*  
  
Alanna: I don't care.  
  
Jon *moodily*: At least you don't have to be gay. Kally'll have that spread all over the Palace...  
  
Daine: Hey, I'M the one who should be pitied. No one else has to play the idiot.  
  
Kel: That's debatable, my lady. *Glares at Joren, who is wearing THE TOUPEE over his orangey-dyed hair.*  
  
Joren: Bah.  
  
Cleon: It could be worse, my pearl. At least you get to club him with that glaive of yours in Episode Nineteen.  
  
Kel: True. Thank you, Cleon. *Smiles.*  
  
Stefan: Does anyone want my opinion?  
  
Everyone else: No.  
  
Stefan: ... Alright.  
  
*Thayet edges away from him.*  
  
Thayet: You and your bloody accent.  
  
Neal: Actually, I'm rather enjoying this.  
  
*The unfortunate youth is pelted with used Styrofoam coffee cups, straws, and THE TOUPEE- that last compliments of Joren. Everybody glares at him.*  
  
Neal *weakly*: Ow...  
  
*Everybody sits in silence for a minute, each brooding over their own horrible role in the even more horrible soap opera. Except for Jon, who is twiddling his thumbs and humming the Vibe song under his breath. If you wish to know whether or not they have Dodge minivans in Tortall, I can't answer that, although I'd guess not. However, they also don't have soap operas in Tortall. Go fig.*  
  
Alanna: Hey, aren't we supposed to sing that song now?  
  
Jon: Eh heh... what song?  
  
Daine: I don't remember any song, Lioness.  
  
*Everyone agrees with her.*  
  
Alanna: My mistake.  
  
*Suddenly there is a flash of light, and there descends into the centre of the room THE OMNIPOTENT AUTHORESS, with wings of fire and a sword of stone. Her eyes burn fiercely with grey-blue flame. She starts to walk across the room toward the awestruck Tortallans.*  
  
Jehane: BEHOLD, MORTALS! FOR I AM THE GREAT AUTHORESS! AND I HAVE COME TO- GAAAK! *Slips on THE TOUPEE and goes down hard. The illusion of wings and fire fades, to reveal a middle schooler wearing glasses and argyle socks. She glares at the Tortallans, as though daring them to say something.*  
  
Thayet: You're... shorter.  
  
Jehane: You shut up. Now what's this about you not singing?  
  
George: Well-  
  
Jehane: Quiet, George! Now, these nice *grimaces* soap writers *grimaces again* took the time to write this song-  
  
Alanna: Only because you made them.  
  
Jehane: No interruptions, redhead! *Glares.* If they took the time to write it, you can all damn well sing it!  
  
Kel: But-  
  
Jehane *bellows*: NOW!!!!!  
  
*The Tortallans, fearing for their eardrums, assemble into a line. Jehane smirks.*  
  
Jehane: That's better. Now dance!  
  
*The Tortallans begin to do a semblance of a line dance. From somewhere to the left there comes a strain of incredible cheesy piano music, and they all begin to sing.*  
  
Everyone: We're the citizens of Tortall,  
  
Some of us are barely mortal-  
  
Daine: Or rather only half that way.  
  
Jon: And really, really, I'm not gay!  
  
Everyone: We like to give our swords a swing  
  
And afterward we will all sing.  
  
Alanna: Or go into insane rages-  
  
Joren: Or maybe kick a couple of pages-  
  
Neal: Or be completely melodramatic-  
  
Thayet: Or be overly emphatic.  
  
Kel: We like to fight for what is right-  
  
Cleon: And have a lot of fun at night! *Grins.*  
  
Stefan: If ye're in town, come look us up-  
  
Everyone else: STEFAN GROOMSMAN, JUST SHUT UP!  
  
*Everyone bows and sits back down. Jehane smiles evilly, as only an Omnipotent Authoress can.*  
  
Jehane: Great performance, guys.  
  
Jon *irritably*: What was that song?  
  
*Jehane's smile widens.*  
  
Jehane: Your theme song! See ya! *Snaps fingers and disappears in a green cloud that smells like pizza.*  
  
Jon: They're going to play that as our theme?!  
  
*Everybody looks either disgusted, bleak, or nonplussed, except for Alanna, who is enraged.*  
  
Alanna: Goddess, this is enough to make me want to kill something... Hey, Numair! Get over here and bring Duke Roger back to life so I can kill him again! *Looks around.* Numair?  
  
Numair: I'm over here, Lioness. I found the script for our last episode in this folder!  
  
*The Tortallans crowd around and look at the wad of papers stapled together in his hand.*  
  
Thayet: Hmm. Seems authentic- Episode Thirty Five, "Stefan's Revenge".  
  
*The Tortallans all look at each other.*  
  
Alanna: Umm... Stefan, I always liked you best, I swear by the Goddess.  
  
Thayet: You make me hot, Stefan. Really.  
  
Jon: Yeah, if I wasn't completely straight I'd wanna jump you.  
  
Cleon: I- well- D-DON'T HURT MEEEE!!!!! *Starts to cry. Kel gives him a good thwap to knock some sense into him.*  
  
Daine: I like horses too. Yeah. I do. Much more than wolves, or badgers, or Numair...  
  
Joren: Bah!  
  
*Tortallans back away out of the door until only Stefan is there. He looks from the papers Numair discarded to THE TOUPEE on the floor. A grin spreads across his face, and as he begins to laugh, he sets THE TOUPEE on his head. Outside, lightning crashes and thunder flashes, as the hostler chuckles maniacally with the power of THE TOUPEE...*  
  
Mmmkay, that's it. I don't intend to write any more to this particular fic, but who knows, I may do a sequel.  
  
Anyway, what did you think? Review, pleeeeeeease? THE TOUPEE wishes it, you know... really...  
  
~Jehane 


End file.
